Having thoroughly questioned Lance and having been thoroughly converted into a Lance fan herself, Rachel was immensely pleased. She decided that he must come and see the huge cake she had been mixing together in the world's biggest bowl. Rachel was puffed up with pride over her scrumptious cake. Suddenly and most unexpectedly, Marilla hip chucked her into the batter and threw herself at Lance.
"Don't worry, Marilla. I fell for you the moment I saw you," said Lance, catching her with ease. As well as having the looks of Adonis, a body Michelangelo would have dragged a seven toned block of marble half way across Italy for in the hopes carving his likeness purely based on the rumour that such a fine specimen of male perfection existed, and teeth Apollonia would have martyred herself TWICE to save, he also had the strength of Goliath. Marilla, who by this stage was starting to pick up on the creepy incestuous overtones, let go of Lance's arm and fled to the other side of the table.
"I appreciate your help, Mr. Elot," said Marilla firmly, "but perhaps it is time you took Anne and Diana for that walk you were talking so much about."
"Smashing idea, Marilla! Girls? Into the woods!" and off he marched, his book of poetry clutched dearly to his heart.
"That man," said Rachel Lynde, attempting to clean cake batter out of her ears, "could flirt a corpse back to life."
Marilla blushed at Rachel's comment. How could she, sensible Marilla Cuthbert, lose control of herself like that? Even her romance with John Blythe had never thrown her into such a tempest of passions. Suddenly Marilla was overwhelmed by waves of guilt and betrayal to her memories of John Blythe.
Marilla felt desperate to do something.... anything... to redeem herself. Throw herself headlong into the log bridge or sell someone else's jersey cow or ANYTHING dramatic and outrageous to erase the horrible reputation of being taken in by her nephew! Her nephew, for goodness's sake! That man could flirt a corpse back to life... Rachel's words rang in her ears.
"Why, that's bloody brilliant, Rachel Lynde!" Marilla exclaimed.
"Mriaow?" Rachel mumbled, busily licking cake batter off her fingers and elbows like a cat washing its fur.
"Rachel, all we have to do is bring Lance to his father's grave! If Matthew could come back to life, we would get an explanation to this scandal for once and for all. Nothing could be more natural in the world than for a son to pay his respects to his deceased father."
Rachel's senses were so occupied with the presence of cake she barely acknowledged what Marilla was saying. She was going to take young Lance down to see Mathew's grave? Perfectly natural thing to do under the circumstances!
"Well! What are you waiting for?" snapped Marilla, snatching the wooden-spoon-of-cakey-glory out of poor Rachel's hand, "No wonder your bosom has reached the button popping stage! There was a half cows worth of dairy in that cake, and you just ate the whole thing!"
Davy, who didn't wish to have a lifetime of therapy before him, escaped the room before any more talk of Rachel Lynde's bosom ensued.
Marilla and Rachel were walking towards the wood when they came upon the unhappy discovery that nobody had actually told Lance that his father was dead.
"What will we tell him?" panicked Rachel, the cake having been taken away from her she was back to her normal self, "he's travelled half way around the world to see Mathew not Mathew's tomb stone!"
"I have no idea...maybe the General Store has a greeting card that deals with this kind of situation?!" suggested Marilla desperately.
"Such as what?" spluttered Rachel, "Welcome to the Avonlea! Your father's dead; will you stay for tea?"
It was on that speculative note that they entered the clearing where Diana and Anne had perched themselves on various logs getting ready for Lance's poetry reading.
"Now, I want you to give me your honest opinion," said Lance gravely, staring deep into the eyes of his female audience (all except Marilla who had nearly dislocated her neck in an attempt not to catch his eye).
"Definitely." sighed Anne.
"Positively." agreed Diana. So it was with their promises of truth and honour, Lance leapt into his reading.
"Molly Jolly Wombles,
Seeking through the night.
Do we each get what we deserve
From the fruit bowl of life?
You say apple! They say banana!
But aye, the apple is always right..."
He then collapsed at their feet for dramatic measure.
"Oh." said Diana.
"Lance," Marilla called out, breaking the stunned silence that was the aftermath of Lance's performance. "I have something to tell you..."
